The Life and Times
by Paperyink
Summary: Harry Potter stories, mapping out the spaces. Featuring everyone and anyone. 1. George and Ron talk about the elephant in the room. 2. Won-Won's gift for strategy manifests in many ways.
1. Probability

"I thought it was gonna be you, you know," George said, glazed eyes fixed straight ahead.

Ron glanced at him, a quick flick to the right, but didn't respond.

"Who died," George elaborated. "If it was going to be any one of us, I thought it would be you. I think we all did. It's just probability, you know. When you disappeared it was like we started counting down the days." Ron stiffened but still said nothing, eyes determinedly trained on the clouds over the low trees in the Burrow garden. For a moment, the clink of the empty beer bottles colliding lazily at their feet was the only sound.

"Talk about unexpected, the way it turned out," George finished off bluntly.

"Me too."

George let out a questioning grunt.

"I thought it'd be me too." Ron clarified.

"Did you."

"Yeah. Like you said, probability." Ron took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly through his nose. "Sometimes I think it should've been me. Like there was... some shoddy paperwork and they took the wrong one."

George tore his gaze away from the horizon and, for the first time in a long time, looked at his little brother.

"That's fucked up," he said, through a short, huffed laugh. It was a hideously rare, genuine thing.

"Yeah," Ron murmured.

George turned back to the clouds, but as the sun rose slowly into the day, he reached out and clapped a hand against Ron's shoulder, squeezing it once, tightly. Ron scraped his shoes upon the grass, a slow smile spreading across his face.


	2. A Jury of Your Peers

A/N: Lol idk what this is but here's a nice little one-shot I cranked out in between researching for and painstakingly writing chapter 6 of The Weight of the After. So, like, enjoy?

* * *

"Right," Ron started, then stopped. He cleared his throat and dropped his pulled pork sandwich on the plate in a sort of anxious spasm, causing crumbs to fly everywhere. "I've asked you all here for a reason."

"You don't have to tell me," Harry said, wide-eyed. "I've never seen you put down a sandwich in your life, not even for the birth of your _children_." He smirked. "Ha, remember when Rose's coincided with that chorizo roll from Brindisa?" He inhaled a bite of his own BLT and shouted, in his best imitation of a panicking Ron, "Jst brth, Hrmynee, jst breatttthhe!" Seamus and Dean let out matching snorts. Ron swung in his seat to glare at Hermione.

"'Jury of my peers,' you said," he hissed. "'Advice from responsible, like-minded adults,' _you said!_ "

"And I stand by what I said," Hermione replied, unbothered, not even glancing up from trying to get her squirming toddler to eat one more piece of broccoli. "Well, maybe not the 'responsible' part. But I firmly believe that anyone who's seen you in just your y-fronts is someone you can trust for an honest opinion."

Ron spluttered madly as Seamus and Dean upgraded their snickers to guffaws. Harry cuffed him on the back of the head impatiently. "I haven't got all day, you know. Ginny's covering the World Cup corruption trial at three and if it's all the same to you I'd like to make sure she doesn't get arrested again."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Mate, you could turn her into a pile of logs and she'd still find a way to get arrested," he said, but his exasperation at his sister momentarily overtook his nerves. "Fine. You know how Dervish and Banges picked up and moved down the street, next to Fortescue's?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, yeah, so I was talking to George, and it's right next to Wheezes, so I thought we could— I mean, nothing's official, but—"

"Ron," Hermione interrupted, finally looking up from Hugo to raise a pointed eyebrow at her flustered husband, "it's a brilliant idea. Just spit it out."

"Right, okay," he huffed out, sitting up straight. "The empty lot. I want to buy it and— and turn it into a comedy club."

Seamus, Dean and Harry gaped at him, then at each other, then back at him.

"What?" Seamus said.

Ron furrowed his brow in confusion. "Er, which part do you need me to explain?"

"No, mate," Seamus shook his head, "I mean, _what?_ That is a brilliant idea!"

"Fucking genius," Dean agreed.

"Probably the best idea you've ever had," Harry added, grinning, clapping him on the back. Ron blew out a breath and smiled, visibly relieved.

"Told you," Hermione winked, nudging him with her elbow. Ron beamed at her and smoothed an affectionate hand through Hugo's brown curls. His son, who had been chewing mournfully, defeated yet again by his mother, smiled sleepily and snuggled further into her lap.

"Who do you have in mind, to perform?" Harry asked. "I've honestly never thought about there being wizard stand-up comedians— I dunno, probably because it just makes me picture Voldemort telling a knock-knock joke." They shared scrunched-nosed looks of disgust. "But why wouldn't there be?" Harry went on, clearly only talking to himself now. "Like that would be the one profession that witches and wizards decided not to take from the muggle world."

Ron idly scratched his beard. "Well, I'm thinking about advertising for music acts too, so I guess we'll have auditions and see who shows up. We could look around, see who we can get connected to. Obviously, we'll prioritise Brits, but the States are bloody _crawling_ with wizard comedians— it's crazy— and I bet a few of them are looking to make it big over here. I mean, I'm not expecting to get any of the famous ones, like Jerry Seinfeld or something, but—"

He was interrupted by Dean violently choking on his beer. The resulting coughing fit went on far too long, and he punctuated it with periodic looks of utter astonishment directed at Ron. Hugo laughed delightedly at the spectacle, tugging on both his parents' sleeves and pointing.

"Hang on," Dean gasped out when he could speak again at last. "Jerry Seinfeld is a _wizard?_ "

"Yeah," Ron answered slowly. "Why, do you know him?"

"Know him?" Dean repeated. " _Know him?_ " he said again, even louder. "He's only one of the most famous comedians in the muggle world! And you're telling me that he's a _wizard?_ "

"Yes, that's what I'm telling you! Are you having a stroke?" Ron asked, dry as the Sahara. "Do you need me to phone your nan?"

"Shut it," Dean shot back. "I can't believe this," he said to the room at large, then rounded on Seamus. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Dunno, mate," Seamus said, hands up in defense. "I thought you already knew."

Dean looked at Harry, who shrugged. "I barely know who Seinfeld is. D'you think I had much time to watch American TV shows during my glamourous summers of hiding in bushes from my cousin and being fed through a dog door?"

Dean rolled his eyes and turned to Hermione. "Did _you_ know about this?" Hermione gave him a tired look.

"Yes, of course I did." she answered mildly. She took a delicate sip of her butterbeer and motioned to Hannah for the check— lunch breaks squeezed between her mountain of pro-bono cases were rare and 30 minutes down to the millisecond. "I know everything."

"Yeah, but this is something I would have actually _wanted_ to learn from you!"

She made a face at him then shrugged. "I don't know, Seinfeld's not my cup of tea."

Seamus burst out laughing. "Bullocks," he said shaking his head at her. "Dry humor and loud complaining is exactly your cup of tea. You married it!" he cried, aggressively gesturing towards Ron.

"Oi!" Ron protested.

"Bullocks!" shouted Hugo.

* * *

Lol I don't know what this was, but I hope you enjoyed it! As always, read/review/reblog!


End file.
